


Stiles' Internship

by RedWrittingHood



Category: The Internship, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: I love him, M/M, future of Teen Wolf, if Stiles were actually Stuart, since they're both Dylan O'Brien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWrittingHood/pseuds/RedWrittingHood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't even sure he wants the job at Google, and his team isn't one he'd bet on. There’s a girl who is trying to compensate for a perpetual-shyness by trying to be “cool” with everything, an Asian kid with mommy issues and a nervous disorder, and two middle-aged idiots who shouldn’t even be allowed in the building. Stiles is pretty sure they offered to illegally buy him beer earlier.</p>
<p>Or, how 'The Internship' would have gone if Stuart was actually Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles' Internship

**Author's Note:**

> In this Stiles=Stuart (I’m using Stiles name though cuz I like it better) SO the team just knows him as Stiles.
> 
> Dylan O’Brien describes Stuart’s character as being “kind of a jerk who is always looking at his phone or computer and always has to correct people” and I thought that wasn’t such a stretch for Stiles.
> 
> I figured they wouldn’t question Stiles’ name with Yo-Yo, Neha, Lyle, and all of Billy’s creative nicknames for Nick
> 
> Set in the future of Teen Wolf, but doesn't borrow much plot from it, just the characters (some characters are from season 3, minor spoilers if you haven't seen it.)
> 
> This is mostly for people who have seen both The Internship and Teen Wolf and love Dylan, so you kinda need to have a little knowledge of all 3 
> 
> Some of the plot is my own, but most of it isn’t, no copywrite intended; none of the characters or ideas are mine.
> 
> I know nothing of the technical jargon and this is unbetaed to mistakes are all mine.

Stiles doesn’t look up from his phone much during the initiation process as a Noogle; he isn’t even sure he wants the job. It’s not far from Stanford, not even an hour actually, but if three years of college have taught him anything, it’s that he hates being two hours away from Beacon Hills, his dad, and the pack. He still sees everyone a couple times a month, at least, and he’s always home for the full moon, but it’s not the same.

Scott’s at a local vet clinic, shadowing Deaton and some other pros, already pretty much lined up to be a full time vet; Isaac went to the local community college and graduated early to become a counselor for abused kids; Alison is training for Olympic-level bow shooting, but also submitted some art to a big gallery in Boston that apparently won lots of awards; Jackson came back from England only to go to law school in New York; the twins actually split up, Aiden got a job at a local mechanic shop and Ethan got his associates to become a PT; Danny is working on his bachelor’s in architecture; and Lyds went to Stanford with him, though she’s majoring in math and physics whereas he’s in computer sciences. Cora got her GED and is working at a local middle school as a pseudo-personal tutor and Derek is actually working full-time at the fire station now. Stiles doesn’t know or care what’s up with Peter.

He wasn’t even going to do the internship at Google, except that he made the mistake of mentioning it to the pack. He was out-numbered and out-voiced in the poll of whether or not he should go for it. ‘We’ll all visit you,’ was Alison’s promise when Stiles argued that the summer was the only time he ever got to see all of them. So now Stiles is sitting in a huge, colorful room full of other bright-eyed, bushy-tailed students just like him, just trying to make it to Friday, when the entire pack will be coming up for a weekend of fun.

Stiles actually kind of tried bombing the interview to get the internship (not that he would admit it, even under duress) but apparently saying that being a two-inch man stuck in a blender would be awesome because he would be able to jump out then probably rule the world was actually the correct answer. Stiles is still trying to work out that one.

>Abominable Snowman: its all ur guys falt that im so bord rite now  
>Banshee Queen: If you dare text me with that atrocious grammar again, I will block your number.  
>Scotty Dawg: is it rly that bad? :(  
>Abominable Snowman: Just think man i could b kicking ur ass at COD right now  
>Sourwolf: Shouldn’t you be working right now?

Stiles glances up to see that everyone is getting into groups. He’s only vaguely aware of why they’re doing that so he snorts and moves to the front so it’s clear that he doesn’t have a group and doesn’t care.

>Abominable Snowman: no im at google not a bank  
>Banshee Queen: It’s not even a real job anyway.  
>Abominable Snowman: its not evn a real intrnshp

The fact that he has been put into a group is brought to his attention, and he’s actually a little disappointed with who’s in it, mainly because of how low he’s sunken right now in the Not Even Trying Department. There’s a girl who is compensating for a perpetual-shyness by pretending to be “cool” with everything, an Asian kid with mommy issues and a nervous disorder, and two middle-aged idiots who shouldn’t even be allowed in the building. Stiles is pretty sure they offered to illegally buy him beer earlier. They’re leader is obviously overly optimistic about…everything. Stiles supposes he doesn’t make a much better impression—he hasn’t been even remotely friendly and he hasn’t put down his phone once.

They go around introducing themselves and Stiles realizes just how in a bad way their group is. The Asian was breastfed until he was seven. The blonde wasn’t breastfed at all.

>Abominable Snowman: ok i am def not getting this job  
>Scotty Dawg: aw y not? :(  
>Sourwolf: Why?  
>Banshee Queen: Why the hell not?  
>Abominable Snowman: ive got the group from hell  
>Abominable Snowman: the pack is better equipped to join google than these people  
>Katniss: that is bad  
>Banshee Queen: Did you join a bad group intentionally in order to have a good excuse not to take the job? Stiles, you deserve this job. Stop being such a baby about it.  
>Abominable Snowman: Course not, don’t be ridiculous.  
>Banshee Queen: Your sudden change in grammar indicates otherwise.

Stiles quickly puts his phone away and tunes in. They have to locate and remove a bug in some coding. He stands up with the rest of the group and starts writing on the clear whiteboard. The Asian kid and the chick kind of know what they’re doing, he realizes, and they’re working well together. The bug won’t be a problem—Stiles can remove a glitch of this origin with his eyes closed—but locating it may be difficult. The entire entity of Google is kind of huge and covers a lot of features, after all. It would be easier, of course, if the two old men would shut the fuck up. They’re going on about flies and Goldbloom and secret messages and Stiles loses track of what else. Yo-Yo helps him convince them to go to Stanford and find a bald, crippled, British guy named Professor Xavier. Stiles knows that professor, and isn’t surprised when they come back a little worse for wear. He also isn’t disappointed that Minghella’s group wins the coding challenge. He isn’t.  


The next challenge is Quidditch, and yes, he’s being serious. They all are wearing gym clothes, straddling brooms, and standing in the middle of a surprisingly intricately set up Quidditch field. He pulls out his phone once they’re down 30-nothing. They’re team is all over the place and he isn’t sure Dumb and Dumber have even heard of Harry Potter.

>Abominable Snowman: im playing quidditch  
>Sourwolf: I thought you were interning at a computer company?  
>Queen Banshee: Google isn’t just a “computer company.”  
>Thing 2: What does quidditch have to do w/ computer programming?  
>Abominable Snowman: ill let u no once i find out  
>Abominable Snowman: im not sure if i should laugh or cry at the two 40y/o men running around on broom sticks…  
>Sourwolf: Definitely cry.

Stiles is hit in the head with a ball and almost drops his phone. “What the hell was that?” He asks no one in particular.  


Neha is glaring at him like it’s somehow his fault. “Why don’t you try looking up and giving a shit, man?” She demands before running in the opposite direction.

>Dannyboy: Well at least quidditch should be easy compared to lacrosse  
>Thing 2: U still kicked ass in lacrosse in college right?

Stiles looks down at his phone somewhat guiltily. He hadn’t thought about the fact that not trying for himself meant screwing over everyone else; when McMahon gives his completely irrational pep-talk that is essentially just one big spoiler-alert for Flash Dance (and Stiles doesn’t want to touch bucket of crazy that with a forty-foot pole), he let himself be motivated and get involved. They still lose, but it felt great to be a part of a team again, even a sweaty, uncoordinated team of old people and losers.

Stiles is back to hating this whole gig during the next challenge. They’re on hour three of trying to come up with ideas for a new app and Stiles’ ADHD is acting up so bad that he’s sitting upside down on the couch. Stiles has designed apps before, but unfortunately they mostly involved ways to make being or knowing a werewolf easier and he can’t really bring that up.

“So who are you always texting?” Neha asks after nearly half an hour of silence among the group. He knows she’s nervous and trying to be cool (and maybe thinks he’s cute?) so he can’t bring himself to deliver the snide remark off the tip of his tongue.

“Some friends back home,” He says shortly. He’s currently playing Words With Friends with half the pack and beating everyone except Lydia and Derek.

Lyle spins his seat around a couple of times.

“Where are you from?” Yo-Yo asks.

Stiles knows they’re just making small talk, but he learned to keep his public life and his pack life out of each other after the witch/conman his sophomore year at Stanford. “What does any of this have to do with making an app?” He asks them as a whole, and he thinks they get it.

“So are they college buddies or what?” Now even Billy is refusing to mind his own business. Not that Stiles should be surprised.

“I’ve known them all since before college okay? Now butt out.”

“So is it like a girlfriend?” Neha asks, leaning forward to try to read his screen. He locks it immediately and sits up.

“I’m gay, for one, and for two, I don’t see how it’s any of your business who I talk to. We’re not friends and I don’t want any of you to be involved in my shit.” He knows he’s being rude but he needs to draw a line here, even if they’re just trying to be nice.

“So a boyfriend then?” Nick asks obliviously. Stiles wants to punch something. 

“Hey, no judgment man. It’s all cool in the circle of trust.”

Stiles grabs a pillow off the couch and buries his head into it.

“Is he hot?” Lyle asks—Stiles is fairly certain he’s bi too, but isn’t about to ask or anything.

“Yes, he’s very hot. Leave me alone.” And now he’s lying, but only because they won’t drop it.

Suddenly Neha, Lyle, and Yo-Yo are standing in front of him. “Pictures.” Lyle demands, holding out his hand expectantly.

Stiles sits up (which ends up being more of a curl up) and turns on the couch. “So do we have any ideas for the app that we are supposed to be working on?” He not-so-subtly changes the subject.

And Billy starts going off about how they should make an app to share pictures. Or, more precisely, Billy starts going off about how they should make Instigram a thing and call it Exchang-o-gram. Stiles kind of wants to cry.

But then they’re at a strip club. Stiles is a little hazy on why and how they got here—the man at the sushi joint wasn’t even speaking the same language as Billy—but at the moment he doesn’t care. He’s getting the hottest lap dance ever and drinking more than he has since his freshman year (and okay, he just turned 21, but it’s not like his father or, worse, Derek was going to find out back then) and he’s grinding on some hot chicks and hotter dudes. And he knows Yo-Yo is drinking way more than he should for his first time and probably going further than he ever has with a girl—so is Neha, actually—but he’s way too buzzed to care.

>Abominable Snowman: and now im drrriiinnnkkiiinngg  
>Scotty Dog: this is the weirdest job evr  
>Sourwolf: It’s midnight. Leave us alone.

Stiles isn’t sure he’s conscious of the choice to change from group chat to a private conversation with Derek, but it happens.

>Abominable Snowman: y do i gotta leave u alone  
>Abominable Snowman: dont u misss mee  
>Abominable Snowman: tis s y i dnt wanna do teh oogle thng  
>Abominable Snowman: i miss  
>Abominable Snowman: u  
>Abominable Snowman: ur so hot  
>Abominable Snowman: ur way hotttt er then girl givin meee a lop danc  
>Abominable Snowman: stubble  
>Abominable Snowman: I iwsh u ddn h ate me  
>Abominable Snowman: u r a ct wofl  
>Sourwolf: How much have you had to drink? You are not driving anywhere are you?

Stiles doesn’t have the chance to answer that because somehow—and Stiles has no idea what happened—Lyle picked a fight with some pretty big guys. Or, well, Nick and Billy somehow inferred that Lyle was picking a fight with some pretty big guys and kind of picked it for him. Stile immediately jumped in on that action; he hasn’t been in a real fight almost since he started college. Not that these guys are really a fight, Stiles takes down three of them on his own—a result of hanging out with werewolves, kanimas, and bansees—which he kind of hopes nobody notices.

The sun is coming up and they still haven’t returned to the dorms, they still haven’t made their app, and they still haven’t thought of an idea. They do have a couple of shiners and hangovers between the six of them though.

“Look at that view!” Nick says to Stiles—who’s head finally cleared enough for him to deeply regret having his phone on him tonight. “Common, you’re not gonna see that in your little four-inch screen, you gotta look up!”  
Stile grunts an agreement and pockets the censured phone with the mortifying evidence of his drunken stupidity.

“Hey, buddy, you were an animal out there tonight.”

“Sure.” The sarcasm is only because he has seen animals in fights.

Nick shakes his head. “No, you were,” He insists. “You have a good time?”

Stiles glances at him quickly. “Yeah it was alright.”

“’It was alright.’ Why do you do that?” Nick seems genuinely disappointed about something, so Stiles finally looks him in the eye.

“What do you mean, do what?”

Nick huffs. “Lowball me like that. Common, I’m not going to take away your Cool-Guy Card if you admit to me you give a shit about something or, god-forbid, you had a great time.”

Stiles nods amicably. “Alright, it was fun.”

Nick just rolls his head and sighs, “Stiles.”

Stiles looks at his feet and huffs. “Alright, fine. I do…I do give a shit about something.” He admits, knowing that everyone is listening now. “It’s why, at first, I didn’t give a shit about this job.” Yo-Yo actually looks up from his planking position on the bleachers. “I was kind of sick of being away from home. I mean…” He sighs and looks at everyone’s faces. “This has been the best night of my life since college started. I told you I keep in touch with my friends from before college, but really, they’re my only friends. My family.” _My pack. _“And I haven’t even tried to make friends since then, it just seemed pointless to even try. Seemed like I might be replacing them.”__

Nick grins at him. “Well it’s not.” And they share a fistbump.

“I think you’re lucky.” Neha tell him from her perch next to Billy. “I haven’t had anything like that. Anybody that close.”

“Well I can’t believe there hasn’t been one boyfriend.” Billy tells her.

She wobbles her head from side to side. “Nope.” She sighs. They all assure her that she is smart, beautiful, and witty. Stiles is surprised to find how much he means it.

“Not to mention kick-ass at Quidditch,” he adds, “Believe me, I know some pretty spectacular girls, and you can definitely keep up with the best of them.” She smiles shyly but seems to believe him, which Stiles is happy to see.

Lyle staggers over, talking about sending his dance instructor-cum-girlfriend a very drunken text, complete with dick pics. And they have their app idea.

“An app that prevents drunken booty calls and texts!” Nick exclaims happily on the bus as they’re programming it—well, Yo-Yo and Stiles are programming it, Neha is falling asleep against Billy and both he and Nick are useless in this department.

“Yeah, I just wish you’d thought of it a few hours ago.” Stiles confesses as he uploads it to the app store.

“Why?” Neha sleepily mummers into Billy’s shoulder.

“You know that boyfriend I was talking about?”

“Yeah,” Lyle says from the seat in front of him.

“Well he’s more of a long-term crush. And I apparently sent him—” he pulls out his phone, “—eleven messages while we were at the strip club. And none of them are a very flattering reflection upon my personality.”

“Oh that sucks.” Neha says, sitting up now. “He’s not going to…avoid you or anything is he?” Stiles appreciates how genuinely worried she is.

“I doubt it; we’ve known each other for too long and have too many mutual friends. He’ll probably call me tomorrow and tell me he’s sorry but he can’t think of me that way and hopefully I’ll be able to play it off as though I didn’t mean it when I said he was hotter than the girl giving me a lap dance.” Stiles groans and buries his face in his hands.

They’re all quiet for a minute before Lyle breaks it. “Is he? Hotter than the girl who gave you a lap dance, I mean.”

Stiles snorts but pulls up a picture on his phone—a candid shot of Derek in his fireman pants and helmet but with no shirt on—and passes it around. Even Nick and Billy admit to the superior looks the man possesses.

Neha is holding it for the second or third time when Stiles gets a text from Derek.

>Sourwolf: Are you okay?

She passes it back to him. “At least he’s still talking to you.” She offers. “Why do you call him ‘sourwolf’?”

“Inside joke I guess.” Stiles doesn’t answer the text because he doesn’t think he can take the humiliation at the moment.

He also ignores all the texts he get the next day—telling Scott and Lydia that he’s too busy answering phones to text them, which is technically true—and the day after that, when they win the competition. Which is a surprise if nothing else, though the dramatic entrance and subsequent celebration is probably the funnest time he’s had since Scott got bit. Stiles thinks it’s actually for the best, since now he won’t have to see Derek’s pity every day.

“Have a great senior year guys,” Lyle tells them as they all stand with they’re luggage outside the Google bus, saying goodbye. “Keep your desk chairs warm for ya?” They all grin as he puts his fist in. “Team Lyle.”

“Team Lyle!” They all put their fists next to his then pull in for a group hug.

Then Yo-Yo stands up to his terrifying tiger-mom. “I’m saying goodbye to my friends. I’m taking a minute.” He tells her. Stiles has never seen prouder parents.

They all start walking in different directions, Lyle heading off with his dancer girlfriend and Nick and Billy lagging behind a bit. “So, um, don’t be a stranger. Shoot me a text sometime.” Neha says with the same shy-confidence she had when they met.

“Forget that, I’m going to come see you in person.” Stiles informs her with a grin.

She giggles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Yo-Yo walks up behind them to talk about the pair of balls he grew, which becomes a little uncomfortable quickly, but then Neha interrupts him.

“Oh my god, look at him.”

They all look up to see a—oh god—familiar black Camaro with a man leaning against it. And of course that man is wearing skin tight jeans and a muscle shirt and a couple days’ worth of shadowy stubble. “Derek,” Stiles mostly-squeaks out. Derek is already looking at him, of course, and seems to be brooding more than usual.

“Hey, if you guys don’t hear from me in the next couple of days, send the cops out for my body will you?” He only half-jokes.

Neha actually looks a little concerned, maybe because of his expression.

Suddenly Nick and Billy are standing next to them, eyeing Derek suspiciously. “That the guy?” Nick asks. Stiles weakly nods.

“We can beat him up for you if he’s mean,” Billy offers completely seriously.

Stiles offers them a weak smile. “I don’t think you could.” He doesn’t tell them that Derek can hear everything they’re saying, but he’s acutely aware of the fact that his heart is pounding and Derek can definitely hear it. “Besides, he’s just here to reject me in person, no big deal. Like I said, it was just some dumb drunken texts.” He knows Derek can hear the words, but also the lie behind them.

Billy doesn’t look convinced. “You sure you don’t want us to go over there with you?”

But it’s a moot point, because Derek is walking towards them. “I’m Derek.” He says with a GQ-worthy grin that definitely has Neha’s heart racing. Not that Stiles should talk. “I’m Stiles’ friend. Are you all the group he’s been texting about for days?”

Nick laughs politely. “See, we knew you cared.” He places a firm hand on Stiles back, probably for comfort, and Stiles sees Derek’s eyes track the movement.

“Derek, this is Neha, Yo-Yo, Nick, and Billy.” Stiles indicates to each of them in turn. “They’ll be my coworkers next year.”

“Yes, Scott told me you ended up getting the job,” Derek says nicely. Somehow the politeness is scarier than his usual growling. “Lydia and Danny are planning your party now.” He seems to be implying heavily—or maybe not implying so much as pointing out directly—that Stiles hadn’t told him himself.

Apparently Billy doesn’t like his tone. “Look, buddy—”

“It’s fine.” Stiles cuts in. “I’ll talk to you guys soon.” Derek nods to each of them then leads Stiles to the Camaro with a hand on his back. Stiles stops when Derek opened the door. “I’m sorry about those texts.” He blurts. It's the truth so he was okay. “I didn’t mean to send them to you.”

“But you did mean what they said.” Derek infers from his overly-specific wording. Stiles decides it was safer not to answer. “They’re debating coming over here to beat me for putting that expression on your face, Stiles.”

Stiles looks up and glances at his team, which are all watching them with feigned disinterest. “Sorry.” He says again.

“No, it’s good. It means you’ll have people who have your back while you’re working here.” Stiles just nods. “Stiles.” Stiles looks up, only to have Derek’s lips touch his, briefly. “I don’t want you to be sorry. About any of it.”

Stiles gapes at him. “What?”

“If you really meant it…” Derek trails off and looks at a loss.

“Yes! I mean, yes.” He says too enthusiastically. Derek grins at him and pulls him in for a deeper kiss.

Stiles gets several thumbs up when they’re driving away.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all. Thanks :)


End file.
